Within the Labyrinth of Shadows
by Mihkail
Summary: Hunted by the Morag Tong, a Dunmer flees to Skyrim to escape the death and destruction that's become her life at home, and to spare those closest to her. What she doesn't realize is the force that awaits her arrival in Windhelm will only lead her from the darkness of her past, and into the heart of Sithis himself.
1. Chapter 1

**_WARNING: _**_Violence, gore, brief language._

 ** _A/N:_** _I wrote this mostly for a good friend some time ago, and only recently returned to it at his request. There is no Dragonborn in this fic. It revolves around OC's and the Dark Brotherhood. I don't expect many people to fancy this story. I'm posting it only because I spent so much time on it, I might as well throw it somewhere. Enjoy._

* * *

The boards creaked and bowed slightly, voicing their age and wear under the light steps that tread up them. Dampened, dried; soaked, dried; drenched, dried again. It wouldn't be long before they would start to crumble. The heavy wood and iron door eased shut with a dull groan behind the small traveler, a wisp of frigid night air sneaking a flurry of snow through the shrinking crack. A voice called to her from somewhere nearby. The inn keeper, likely. She didn't care to acknowledge them. Instead, she climbed the remaining weathered steps to the second floor, where the flickering glow and crackle of firelight beckoned her achy and cold bones like a moth to a flame.

Another cramping pain, one of too many to count, commanded her to order food before she passed out. That too, was ignored. Warmth, she craved more than anything in the world. Well, other than solid, stable ground, but that wish had already been granted. Food would come eventually, when she could get it for free by sneaking into the kitchen in the middle of the night. As hungry as she was, the thought of eating was ironically nauseating, anyway. Once her stomach realized it was no longer being tortured by the swaying of angry waves, everything would be better.

Tiny flecks of white glistened in the dancing light as the snowflakes melted into the dark cloak draped around her. She picked a chair closest to the fire, and collapsed. Mindless of the mead-stained armrests, and the strange looks she was receiving from the other inhabitants of the inn. Nords that looked and sounded as weathered as the steps she climbed. Dark eyes that normally cast an intelligent, obsidian gaze, were a little too bloodshot, and a little too glazed as they lost themselves in the hypnotizing flames. The licking trails of gold and orange washed out what little color she possessed, bleaching her icy skin into white, and revealing the damp, rich strands of purple hair hiding beneath her hood. Her facial structure gave away her race easily, but she seemed not to care, or perhaps to be entirely ignorant, of the mild tension that her presence had stirred around her. Scathing whispers of something called the Gray Quarter, while the bard bellowed above the mumbling a tune that involved Ulfric being the high king. None of it reached her. It should have...but she was too tired, too sore, and too distracted at the moment.

Eventually, her lids would fall shut, and she leaned forward with her elbows on the leather of her knees. They said it would be cold here. She believed them. But they could have emphasized that fact a little more than they did. The flimsy cloth cloak of hers would simply not do. She would have to find a better glorified blanket to nuzzle into before she continued her journey. One with a fur lining, preferably. New boots, too. New everything, it seemed. If only she had packed more... But no. There was no time for that, and it was far easier to flee unnoticed without a chest full of supplies and clothes weighing her down. All she possessed now was physically attached to her person. Leather and cloth, a bag of septims worth more than it looked, some hidden weapons, some jewelry, and not much else. The rest was gone. Nothing but a labyrinth of memories, good and bad, beautiful and horrifying. All the riches, all the connections, the influence, friends, family of Morrowind...snuffed into darkness. And yet, her only regret was not casting it all away sooner. If she had, there would have been less casualties. She had been arrogant. Stubborn. As difficult as it was to admit, she had underestimated _them_. Perhaps even—

"You llllosst, Graysshkin?" A voice, as rough and unforgiving as it was drunk, slurred down at her with a rancid and accusing breath that instantly heightened the nausea she was slowly overcoming. Ripped from her thoughts, she opened her eyes to stare up at the man standing uncomfortably close to her shoulder. A tall, middle-aged Nord with greasy, shit-colored hair with some braids tied back into a short ponytail. She cursed inwardly, in no mood for entertainment, but she chose not to move. Chose not to arm herself with the blades secured beneath the curtain that hung from her shoulders. It wasn't worth it. Inebriated as the foul-smelling man was, she ventured even she could knock him over with an appropriately timed nudge. So what if he was twice her size.

Lethargy and apathy kept her quiet, and she reverted her unamused, half-lidded stare to the firelight before her. The locals shoving their faces with stew and mead were largely beyond her field of vision, but she could feel them. Feel the pairs of eyes aiming at them as she tried in vain to ignore the bastard next to her. She knew better, really. He wasn't going to just leave so easily. Not without a reaction from her. But she tried anyway. So tired... So hungry... So—

"Hey! I'm talkin' to you, girl!" Another waft of unhygienic breath billowed down into her face, and the pale silver of her jaw visibly clenched as her eyes hardened. Sharpening into daggers as lethal as the poisoned ones sheathed in her leather. She wouldn't attempt a diplomatic approach. Talking her way out of things never seemed to work for her in the past. Too honest and too blunt for her own good. That's partly what got her into this mess in the first place, if she had to be honest. Charisma, even with all the classes her affluent parents forced her to take shoving etiquette into her ear—and right out the other—had never been, and never would be, one of her finer skills.

A hand, one she could swear hadn't been washed once in at least a week, reached for her. A fluid dip and twirl evaded him effortlessly, and the Nord stumbled forward slightly as she made her way calmly toward the stairs she only too-recently ascended. Screw it. She could submerge herself in a nest of blankets once she paid for a room. Blankets that were about as sanitary as that man behind her, no less, but it would be better than nothing. Might not be as effective as a fire, but getting harassed like this wasn't on her agenda. All she wanted was some peace and quiet so she could collect her thoughts and figure out her next step, while chasing away the ice that was infecting her very soul. Apparently that was too much to ask.

A quick shuffle and heavy slap of a hand fell down on her shoulder as the drunk persisted, and the Dunmer paused mid-step. Feet anchoring to the floorboards in a widened stance as a current of electric malice infiltrated her chest, tightening her muscles and sending a trickle of adrenaline into her veins. One of them was about to have a very bad night, and she wasn't prepared for it to be her, exhausted or not. Even if it meant getting her ass thrown out into the street, at this point. There had to be another inn somewhere in Windhelm. Or she could break into someone's house and find a place to snooze out of sight, but that was a last resort.

His angry snarl contorted into startled agony when in the next moment his clumsy, intrusive hand was caught in her own, and two of his fingers were bent farther than he thought they were capable of reaching without snapping. The burning sting of tearing muscle and tendon alighting a path through them. There were no words to waste on him, and she feared that if she were to engage him any closer than she was now, his stench would cause her to expel what little bile remained in her bruised gut from that wretched ship she crawled off of earlier that evening.

Showing a fierce stubbornness that rivaled her own, the man lunged for her, ready to snatch at her throat with his free hand, but to his great fortune, he froze suddenly. She watched his eyes jerk to something behind her, and the anger and pain that glitter over them melted into a wondrous haze that was tainted vaguely with fear.

A chill washed over her back, likely from the entrance downstairs beyond them. Reminding her of the frozen hell she would be forced to return to if she didn't plan her next moves as carefully as her overworked and impatient mind would allow. She could feel the strain of his trapped fingers. Feel them beginning to tear even further...and yet he seemed not to feel a thing now. She was almost tempted to glance over her shoulder, but she dared not remove her attention from him. Not yet.

"Why don't you sit down, before things get out of hand." A deep, calm voice rumbled close to her, just out of sight. Another cold chill swirled down her spine, more intense than the last. Pale, chapped lips flapped sluggishly in front of her, as if the drunk had been smashed over the back of the head with a pint, and was struggling to reorganize his sparse braincells. "Y-...Yeah...I should...sit down." He muttered quietly, and then quickly cast his worried and confused gaze down while stumbling backwards. She freed his captive fingers as he moved, and studied him a little more closely as he seemed to lose awareness of her presence altogether.

The stranger drifted past her before she could turn to face him, a swath of cloth ghosting along her own as he passed behind her. When she did turn, it was a beast of a man that she found. A height that towered over the retreating drunk with broad shoulders that might have trouble fitting through the narrow doorways in her homeland. He didn't acknowledge her, which she found slightly peculiar. Not that she particularly wanted him to. She wasn't in the right frame of mind for any company, especially since she didn't plan on staying in this frozen wasteland longer than she had to. A southern city would be nice. As far south as she could find. Nevertheless, as her hands submerged into the concealing cloak that revealed only her visage and part of the boots that reached mid-calf when she stood still, she watched him with veiled curiosity as he took a seat at an empty table against the cold stone wall by the frosted glass windows. So far from the fire, it was as if he was trying to avoid it. A cloak of dull, steely blue-gray covered him, hiding most of the pale golden locks of his hair that peeked underneath. The tiny snowflakes that clung to him did not melt. The hem was frayed and dirtied. Looking a little ragged, he struck her as lower-class. Someone used to hard, manual labor, who didn't tolerate nonsense or unnecessary trouble. That was a mere assumption based on the quick once-over she gave him, however.

Just as she was about to turn and continue down the stairs, he looked up at her. A casual glance, and only natural, as she'd been staring at him rather pointedly for a moment. The distance between them spanned almost half the length of the inn itself now, but she instantly understood the reaction of that drunkard.

Those eyes... They pierced through her like the fangs of a serpent. Sinking in and injecting an infectious venom that momentarily paralyzed her in place. A split-second later, it was gone. A flash of intensity that dissipated so quickly, she wondered if she only imagined it. After the recent events fate had wrestled her through so unsympathetically, and the grueling boat ride she endured, it wasn't so farfetched to think. Maybe she was even starting to hallucinate a little, but she could have sworn those eyes were brighter than they should be. Like small candle flames glinting through the shadows at her. No... That was just the reflection of the fire. A strange trick of the light at the right angle.

Reluctantly, she gave him a light twitch of a nod. The closest thing this stranger would receive to a proper thank you. He merely stared for a second longer, without a hint of emotion of his face, before looking away.

"I need a room." A heavy thump on the counter startled the inn keeper from her shameless flirting with a man leaning next to her, and the young woman jumped slightly. Looking down at the bulky wad of leather sitting in front of her, jingling quietly as the hidden coins slid into place, she forced a polite smile at the Dunmer. No one would argue with gold. "I have a room available down the hall. I'll show—"

"Thank you." The elf cut her off, counting the coins and dropping them on the wood for her to collect so she could be on her way. The girl scoffed to herself, once she thought her weary patron was out of ear's reach.

The hall was pleasantly quiet as she moved. The faint melody of the bard's flute sifting through the floorboards above her head. Each step closer and closer to her waiting bed grew weighted in anticipation of face-planting into something that was, with any luck, soft and warm. To her surprise, the vacant room she found was directly across from the kitchen. She had to stop and peer through the open doorway, eyeballing the pots steaming over the burning embers inside, and the dried herbs and fresh game hanging from hooks. How perfect. She reached for one of the handles, pulling the door shut behind her with a small smirk. When most everyone sauntered off to bed, and there was no further need for a cook, she would scavenge like the sneaky, ravenous mouse that she was.

That was the plan, anyway. Plans don't always come to fruition, however. Lately, they seemed to only blow up in her face. For the moment she eased down onto the pile of fur and hay, reality vanished. There would be no waiting for the staff to scurry off and the inn to darken. The deerskin met her chest with a soft nudge, and it was more than enough to knock her consciousness into the abyss. No time to think, to plan, and no dreams greeted her when her eyes snapped closed. Pure, blissful nothingness consumed her.

So pervasive was her coma, that when she next awoke, she couldn't tell if it had been five minutes, or five days. Her body said five minutes, and yet somehow she felt it had been longer than that, though not nearly long enough. The room was a wash of inky, swirling shadows, with only a single candle sputtering its final rays of light in a pool of melted wax in a lantern on the dresser. Yet it's insignificant pinpoint blinded her when she was foolish enough to glance at it.

There was a reason she awoke now, though. The sudden alertness that bolted her from a dead sleep never happened without a cause. Even as she struggled to regain her equilibrium and try to make sense of her surroundings, she could feel it. A change, of some sort. Or perhaps it was simply the waves of goosebumps knotting over her skin, telling her she should have gotten under the damn blankets instead of pass out on top of them. The chill was back.

Curse this place. Why was it so cold? There wasn't even a window in her cubbyhole of a room, and yet she might as well have been standing outside under a pelting of snowfall. Sluggish limbs fought weakly to pull the heated layers out from beneath her, and toss it over the length of her fully clothed form. She rolled onto her back, rustling some of the hay onto the floor with her boot. Submerged now in a bath of warmth, her mind melted into a drowsy calm once more, and the darkness enveloped her, sinking her back into its sleepy depths.

This time, fleeting images and memories sparked through her dazed mind. The sounds of clinking utensils and the chatter of diplomats; wardrobes of rich colors and textures flaunted like the feathers of exotic birds; a training dummy full of slits and punctures, draining its shredded stuffing on the floor; the sound of a child laughing and running down a hall while a voice chided after them in vain to slow down; a glint of gold as a delicate chain clasped at the back of her neck; a brush of ice as something grazed her throat, and slid a lock of dark hair out of the way with a tickle, while a chilling gust drew what little heat she possessed from her skin...

A limb flung itself haphazardly in an arch, and crashed down on the night stand next to the bed as she was jerked to life like a puppet on taut strings. The cocoon of fur and hay tore open as she flipped onto her side, and nearly fell off the bed itself. A foot caught on the floor, steadying her enough to push herself into a hunched position on the edge of the bed. The elf kept one hand braced warily on the night stand she had just assaulted. An empty lantern lay on its side below her, while the other across the room continued to sputter and sway with its dying light. She groaned softly, rubbing her hands over her face in exhaustion and irritation at her own jumpiness.

It had been so real, though. The sensation of something drifting over her. Intangible, yet clear in its presence. A feathery, yet cold touch had ripped her from her shallow snooze, like the brush of a curious spirit. It was too real to be part of her dream, she was certain. Then it was gone. The room was empty. Every one of her senses reassured her that she was alone, and was in fact, possibely going insane...because that part was most certainly reassuring.

An obnoxiously loud, moaning gurgle churned through her gut, and she peeked through the fingers that pressed over her brow to stare vacantly into the shapeless room before her. Judging by the complete lack of sound above and around her, it was safe to assume now would be a good time to alleviate the inn of some of its edibles. Maybe then she would sleep better, and stop imagining things.

The chandeliers of hollowed horns glowed dimly down the empty hall, masking the half-asleep, uncoordinated body into a mere blur of movement along the wall as she slipped into the kitchen. Creaks and groans whispered through the building, enlivened by the harsh northern wind outside beating into what cracks and crevices it could reach. The steaming pots were long gone, though the embers pulsed a deep red in the long stone pit that spanned the back wall. It still managed to heat the room to a bearable temperature. Her head was pounding as she searched the cupboards and drawers, uncaring of what she found, so long as she was capable of digesting it. Everything she tried to eat on the ride over to this inhospitable land was lost overboard, into the bobbing waves of saltwater and ice chunks. The next haul of salmon was bound to be more plump than usual, thanks to her.

She could feel the weak spasms dance through her arms, hands twitching with light tremors as they collected a small bounty of stale, leftover bread, cheese, pieces of salted meat from an unknown source, and a small apple. Good enough to silence the hunger pains until morning, and hopefully restore some control to her untrustworthy limbs. At any moment now she feared her knees would give out, and she would submit to sleeping wherever she landed, with a bloated belly and flecks of crumbs stuck on her face. It might even be worth the earful she would receive from the cook later.

The shoulder that leaned into the door frame was still mildly damp from the snow it collected outside, but as soon as a piece of torn bread and cheese touched her tongue, she knew nothing but euphoria. It was a little hard, and a little tasteless, but the cheese gave it an undeserved explosion of flavor that could have won awards, in her deluded opinion. In reality, it really wasn't that impressive at all. Just a testament to how hungry she was. She retreated within herself, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply in long-awaited satisfaction while she chewed. Sooner or later, she would have to remember to stumble the rest of the way into her own room, and collapse back down onto her bed. With any luck, it would still retain some of her body heat from earlier.

A faint _click_ to her left caught her attention, soft and metallic, and nothing like the rest of the haunting sounds the inn was creating. She jerked her head to find a shadow standing a few feet away. Formidably tall and featureless, with a hand resting on the iron door handle of the room parallel to the kitchen. The details were difficult to make out in the waning light, but the large build was enough to spark some recognition. This was the same man she had met upstairs. Not the greasy, racist drunk, but the grizzly bear in a cloak the color of the ocean under a blanket of clouds. His hood was pulled far enough his time that she could glimpse only the pale smear of his nose and mouth, darkened ever so faintly with a canvas of stubble. Yet, even with his eyes hidden, she could feel him watching her.

Both of them had frozen. He with the door to his room pulled open a crack, and she with an armful of delicious loot she was about to gorge on like an insatiable troll, staring one another down expectantly. Damn. She was better than this, normally. Always the stealthy one, with eyes on the back of her head. Few things slipped past her, and even fewer things gave herself away, when she wanted to go unnoticed. A natural thief since she was old enough to totter around and snatch things with her stubby elven fingers, and perhaps even a natural assassin, if she so desired...though that was not a trade she ever meant to toil with. Of course, that didn't mean she wasn't prepared to take a life, but she would never make a career out of murder. She preferred her gold free of crimson and guilt. However, her current state was anything but normal. Both physically and emotionally drained, even a trained sneak was bound to slip up now and then. These were trying circumstances. The fact that this man managed to walk down the length of the hall without alerting her was more than a little unnerving, however. Someone with his build should not be so stealthy.

The loud _clunk_ of her apple slipping free and falling to the floor resounded much louder than she wanted it to, drawing her focus down as it rolled along the edge of the woven rug. Of course, it would stop only once it nudged into the unmoving man's foot, and the Dunmer bit gently into her tongue in frustration. In the very least, this was embarrassing. At most, she would be bribing him to keep his mouth shut. Either way, she was annoyed.

Skeptically, she watched him sink slowly to the floor and pluck the red and yellow gem from the dusty boards. His steps, which should have been heavy like distant rumbles of thunder, were curiously light and quiet. The build of a bear, with the agility of a sabre cat. Enough to impress her, if not leave her feeling a bit wary. The silence was stifling as he paused a couple paces from her. Shrouding her in a massive silhouette.

Unlike him, she was lacking her hood now. Hair a bit stringy, and in need of a good scrub, it hung free in long, dark strands down her shoulders and back, parted by the pointed tips of her silver ears. Black eyes considered him stoically, trying to decipher his intent through what minimal body language he displayed. A soft noise of friction as a calloused thumb stroked over the skin of her stolen fruit distracted her briefly, and made her shift her weight, as if she were ready to dart around him. She didn't like feeling cornered, and he was taking too long to speak. It was then that she noticed the clustered polka dots over his head, shoulders, and part of his chest. Snowflakes that had never melted from earlier that evening. Or, perhaps he had gone outside again.

"No mead...?" His rough voice finally reached her, grumbling from deep within his throat, and in the next moment, the apple popped up into the air in front of her. A quick toss aimed for her folded arms, stuffed with food. It fell into place between the loaf of bread and chunk of cheese. He didn't wait for a response, instead turning and shuffling away with a hint of a smirk on his lips.

Her feet were still until he disappeared into his room, and she heard the sound of a lock turning. Then, they ushered her out of the hall in a streak of shadow, cloak fanning behind her in the quick movement. Well, that panned out a lot nicer than she thought it would. It was too bad she couldn't have met him in a warmer city. He might turn out to be a worthy contact, but she would never know now.


	2. Chapter 2

The sun rose without her the next day, casting its rays through glittering frost and ice high in the patchwork sky before she was able to rouse from her slumber. Too many hours had passed her by, far more than were meant to, but even after the extra sleep, it wasn't enough. The evidence of her thievery was swept under the rug, quite literally, as the bread crumbs and apple core were shoved beneath the yellow tapestry next to her bed. She was able to escape the angry glares of the cook and inn keeper as they argued over the missing stock, too. Even if they suspected her, it didn't matter. Her goal was to be miles from Windhelm before anyone actively searched her out. Then, it would be much too late.

By the time she found the blacksmith, her teeth were no longer chattering. The beloved armor that had comfortably molded to her shape from years of wear had been traded in for attire far more suitable. This brown leather was slightly less flexible, thicker, and lined with soft fur. New boots ended a little higher, at her knees, rather than her calves. Her thin cloak was happily discarded for one that fell to her ankles, a dark gray padded with rabbit pelts that cost her more septims than she cared to admit. It would have been so much more convenient to simply take what she wanted, but she was too damn cold to wait any longer, and she still needed to do some more shopping. She could always fatten up her cache with some unguarded strongboxes or carelessly placed coin purses in the future.

"Looking to protect yourself, or deal some damage?" The gruff voice of the middle-aged smith asked while she perused his supply. A clutch of gloved fingers bunched the mottled white and silver fur tighter around her neck as she scanned the quality with a critical eye. Judging by the less than friendly tone that addressed her, the only thing separating this man with the intoxicated one the night before, was the fact that he could stand to gain something by tolerating her presence. Was the whole city like this? There were plenty of Argonians and other Dunmer around, but she hadn't seen a single once since she left the dock, and passed through the slums yesterday. So far every Nord she met acted as if she'd committed some crime to personally offend them. Well, almost every Nord...

"I'm interested in your bows." She answered plainly, keeping neutral as she glanced to the man smudged in soot and dried sweat at her side. Sweat, of all things, in a place like this! A pass of silent judgment swept through his pale blue eyes, and with a sigh he turned to point to a set hanging in a rack close to the smelter. "I got some composite bows there for six-hundred. The elven is eleven-forty-eight. Arrows are eight a piece for the iron, ten for the steel, and twelve for the orcish." Short and to the point, he leveled her with a stony look when she stared blankly at him.

"The elven is _eleven-forty-eight_?" Her indifference fell to thinly veiled disdain.

"That's right."

The Dunmer's eyes narrowed a pinch in disbelief, and the smith set his hands on his apron. "There a problem?" The way he curtly posed his question made her believe he didn't quite give a damn if there was.

"That's a little high, don't you think?"

"High? You want a cheap elven bow, go back to your own land. These are the prices. If you don't want it, then don't take it." He side-stepped away from her, attention drawn to another customer as they inquired about smelting some iron.

She fumed quietly to herself, and eyed the rack bitterly, considering her options. None of them were impressive, not even the elven. In fact, the elven looked battle-worn, and yet he was asking a price like that? Ridiculous. Not even she was that much of a thief. Okay, maybe she was, but...

"You had no problem stealing food, and yet you'll drop hundreds for a new set of armor and weapons?" A familiar voice teased her in a low whisper. She turned, eyes watering and blinking furiously against the relentless wind to peer at the broad, steel-blue back close to her. Grizzly cat, as he was now branded in her mind, was facing a wooden table displaying daggers and other one-handed weapons.

"Are you following me?" She hissed suspiciously, beady eyes of discontent glaring at him through her flickering lashes. This weather was terrible, and it wasn't even snowing right now. How did these people live here day in and day out? She should have fled to Hammerfell.

"I was about to ask you the same question." He countered calmly, without turning to face her, and her lip twitched in the beginning of a snarl. At first, she resigned to ignoring him. Letting her misplaced aggression get the better of her. It was so hard to be in good spirits, even if this stranger was the only one that didn't seem to openly object to her arrival in Windhelm thus far. She was officially homeless for the first time her life. Starting completely from scratch after drowning in luxury and status, and in a land that was not only foreign to her, but outright hostile. The only blessing she was granted was her anonymity. Nobody knew her here. Nobody was hunting her now, and no more lives would be lost trying to protect her.

"It's a little hard to steal something you're incapable of concealing." Came her mumble, finally. Ensuring no one was eaves dropping on them as she spared a quick survey around.

"You look fit. Take it and run."

A fresh glare pierced him from the corner of her eye, unsure whether or not he was being serious. Something told her that despite the absence of amusement in his tone of voice, he was indeed jesting in his own cryptic way. Mocking her, even.

The crunch of last night's snow shifted under her boot as she turned to walk away. There was a potion shop she wanted to visit. For now, a bow could wait. She had other weapons she could play with, in the mean time. And who knows, maybe she _would_ snatch it and run while no one was looking, if only out of spite.

"What brings you here, elf? Why are you so far from home?" His words murmured to her, shoulder now aligned with his as she paused next to him. Rather, aligned with his bicep, as he was considerably taller than her. His blatant curiosity peaked her own, and a more careful sweep of her eyes absorbed him. Beginning at the toe of a black leather boot, swiping up the uninteresting battered cloak that covered most of him, and ending at the mane of gold and light brown hair that was uncovered, for once. Shaggy and blowing freely, with a couple thin braids tied with leather, yet not unkempt.

"And why would you care to know the business of a foreign elf?" She retorted, unable to hide the antipathy in her words. His chin tilted in her direction, eyes reverting from their assessment of the steel instruments in front of him to lock with hers.

A shock seized her nerve endings, bathing them in ice, or fire, or poison—she couldn't understand the true nature of the feeling. All she knew was that it was impossible to tear herself from the churning inferno that glowed before her. Alight like miniature, sentient stars, his eyes shimmered at her even in the shade provided by the shorter strands of hair around his face. The trick of the light she experienced last night when she looked upon him wasn't a trick at all, or she really was in the process of losing her sanity.

"A change...of scenery..." Her voice trickled from her lips of its own accord, like someone was speaking for her. An erratic pulse fluttered in her ribcage, and yet in stark contrast, she couldn't remember the last time she felt so peaceful. Everything in the world was in its rightful place, in that moment. There was nothing to worry about, and there never had been. All the troubles of the past were nothing more than illusions. She didn't understand how she knew, she just...knew. Everything was okay now. No...everything was perfect. Nothing was a threat anymore. "I needed to leave. To be some place...far away... Safe..."

"Safe." She heard him echo distantly, transfixed by what she could only guess was the most bewitching magic she had ever fallen captive to, and yet she didn't care. His pallid jawline, curved under the shallow dip of a high cheekbone, shifted closer to hers, and it didn't alarm her in the least. On the contrary, she wondered why he seemed so far away. She wanted him to be even closer, despite the scent of mead and something metallic that flooded her nose. Yet, in a cool pant of breath, he proved his proximity couldn't reign in much closer than it currently was. "Who told you Skyrim was safe?"

A sudden dizziness swirled through her skull, swallowing up gravity as she seemed to lift off the very earth itself and hover weightlessly in space. There was no answer she could give him. The smile creeping up his colorless lips suggested he wasn't expecting one from her, either. Then, without warning, he looked away, and returned to his previous position. The frozen stone floor flew up to meet her feet once more. She snapped out of her swaying fog, and took a sharp inhale as two confused steps forced a wider cushion of space between them. Alarmed now at how close they were, and thoroughly confused by what just happened.

He glanced her way, curious, as if her change in demeanor was unwarranted. His eyes, she noted, were no longer the hypnotizing and vibrant flames they were a moment ago. A soft, unremarkable yellow replaced them. In her peripheral, she faintly made out the suspicious glances the locals were aiming her way, regarding her in the same manner the grizzly cat was.

She cleared her throat, searching herself and her surroundings in vain for an explanation of what just occurred. The erratic heartbeat settled back into a steady, slow rhythm, but with another unusual contrast as a sense of unease thickened inside of her. The feeling of something being horribly, inescapably wrong, for no logical reason at all. "Do... Do you..." Swallowing, she closed her eyes for a moment to collect herself, and then began again. "Do you know of any cities warmer than this one?"

"Riften." He replied without missing a beat, lifting a curved blade that resembled a fang and inspecting it appreciatively, the sunlight reflected beams of blinding flashes off the turning steel. Paying her no mind. Even giving her the impression she might be bothering him now. "Turn left at the stables. The road winds around a mountain and then heads south. It's a few days journey on foot, but you'll be right at home there." She mumbled a quick thank you, and fled the menagerie of weapons and armor as fast as she feasibly could without drawing notice.

About an hour and a half later, a spray of fresh snow was bursting behind her. Flailing in small clumps and raining back down over the cobblestone path while the stocky bay she rode snorted into the afternoon air. The first enraged shout called behind her as the stable boy finally realized he was missing a horse. So far back she almost didn't hear it as she galloped at full speed, and quickly disappeared from sight over a small hill. Armed with a leather pack filled to the brim with basic supplies, potions, and some equipment to camp with for the next few nights, she was ready to leave the land of blizzards behind for good. So long and good riddance, with its high prices, unwelcoming hosts, and blanket of white. That elven bow made its home over her shoulder as well, with a full quiver of orcish arrows to keep her going for a while. Though it pained her to break down and pay the absurd price, she licked her wounds by lifting a few purses on her way out. Unfortunately, most of the city dwellers she ran into weren't the wealthiest around, but it was better than nothing.

"Good boy." A leather-clad slap against the animal's thick hide showed her appreciation as they gradually slowed to a trot a few miles into their journey. Chances are there wouldn't be the guards and horsepower to spare for a proper chase, especially with terrain and weather like theirs. Would the city of Windhelm really track a horse thief into the wild? If they did, she would meet them head on. Until then, her ears would be trained for the sounds of hooves at her back, with the occasional check over her shoulder.

Turn left, follow the road around the mountain, and head south... That's what her sturdy acquaintance said. She knew nothing of this city called Riften, but if it was any warmer than the shore she stepped foot on, that's all that mattered. The only problem was, as her furry, 'borrowed' companion lead the way up the barren slope the road stretched upon, it was...well, a slope. An inclining slope, not a declining one. Her understanding was that she ought to be circling the mountain, not carving into the very heart of it. Yet that's what her view presented. Ahead of her, as far as the eye could see, a steady upward angle. Not a steep one, but a progressive change in elevation was evident. The dense tufts of clouds rolling above her head, and even mixing into the tops of the tall pine trees, weren't too promising, either. The altitude was rising higher than she was prepared for.

As her memory served, she had one hell of a time sleeping in that cold inn, where four falls and a ceiling sheltered her from the elements, and where she had a bed of elevated hay and fur to burrow under. Not only did she lack these comforts out in the open, but ascending a mountain like this was just begging to get caught in a subzero storm. Did she miss a fork in the road somewhere? Had the grizzly cat been mistaken in the directions he gave her? Had he been _lying_? There was no way to find out now, and she certainly wasn't going to double-back and risk getting thrown into a dungeon. Those were tricky to break out of, sometimes.

The steady line of trees and snowberries framed her in an eerily quiet corridor, encased in a layer of snow that occasionally slipped off branches and splat over the frosty cobblestones around her. It was beautiful, in a way. Regardless of her complex predicament, and the uncertainty of what tomorrow would bring—let alone the next hour—it was impossible not to soak in the raw, pristine landscape that sucked her deeper and deeper into its wild painting.

The horse trod along at a slow pace now, ears pinned back with a tired snort rustling from its large nostrils. She shouldn't have pushed him so hard. Sweating was dangerous when the frigid air could turn the moisture against you so severely. Hopefully his dense, winter coat would protect him enough, or she would be in even more trouble.

"Looks like the road levels up there. Just a little further." The elf reassured him, as if he could possibly understand her. Perhaps it was more for her benefit, than his. The slight incline did seem to end several yard ahead of them, however. A bend in the path curved around a protruding boulder, decorated with a shower of massive icicles gripping its surface like the teeth of an ancient ice wraith.

She pulled the pocket of rabbit fur over her chilled head, and bundled it tighter under her chin. The cloak was high quality, and did wonders to shield her from the breeze, so long as it didn't sneak beneath the flaps and dissipate the heat she produced. Splurging for that, if nothing else, was a wise choice.

When she came to the top and rounded the boulder, a sharp jerk ordered her horse to halt. A soft, high-pitched whinny complained at the rough movement, and it chomped with a low grunt on the metal bit puling its mouth. Ahead of them paused another traveler. One that was facing away from them, standing still at the edge of what could be a shallow decline, or even a short cliff. The tall trees dispersed where this person stood, or rather sat, atop another horse as black as the dead of night. A solid cloak blended perfectly into the horse's winter pelt, dark and patternless. They posed a stark contrast amidst the overwhelming white that dominated their trek. If they were to hop into a tree, perhaps they could blend into the murky branches and pine needles, otherwise they stood out like a solar eclipse on a cloudless day.

They must have known she was coming. Aside from the wind creaking through the trees, naught else could be heard out there. After a moment, she squeezed the flank of the tired bay, and it started forward again. Moving slow and with a purpose, they ambled closer to this sight-seeing figure..and as the space between them shrunk, she believed she understood why they were paused motionless. A breath-taking view expanded before her with each step. She came to see they were standing on the peak of a hill that tumbled down into a rolling expanse of snow-covered scenery, and beyond, the arching waves of the ocean below through patches of speeding clouds. The road continued on, winding into the mountain, but this perch was a perfect place to stop and take a break. This was also the perfect opportunity to confirm the route to Riften.

Her gaze swept back and forth between the black hood that fluttered in the cold air, and the sight before them. The soft thudding of the bay brought up alongside the suspiciously tall and silent being. The head of the black horse was angled away, ears perked and sniffing curiously into the wind that beat into them, as if something caught its attention. She was about to open her mouth to offer the bare minimum of a greeting, if only because standing there quietly next to a complete stranger, in the middle of nowhere, was downright awkward...but they spoke for her.

"Moments like this don't last long here. Treasure it, before the clouds return. This place can go weeks without a break of sky."

The Dunmer's eyes shot wide. She recognized him before he turned, but when he did, a gaze of soft yellow met her. Placid, as if she had just roused him from a deep meditation. The slight parting of her soundless lips conveyed her surprise, if her deer-like expression did not.

"You...?!" She managed to force through the lump in her throat, mind swirling with confusion as she tried to figure out what was going on; why he was there; where his ugly slate cloak had blown off to; what his intention was.

With a quick snap, the black horse turned in her direction. A pair of blazing red eyes focused on the unsuspecting duo next to it, and it snorted loudly with a haughty stomp of its foot. A shrill cry split their ears, and the bay between her heels startled abruptly, swinging to the side and threatening to rear up, as if the creature next to it had transformed into a frost troll. She cursed and sucked in her breath, struggling to calm the flighty animal. It thrashed in a circle, and then began backing up with its front legs lifting and hopping off the ground in warning.

"Easy... Easy!" She shouted sternly. Meanwhile, the black horse swiveled gracefully to face them at the guidance of a steady hand, as the grizzly cat pulled the leather reins. The bay's rump smacked into the icy boulder they had passed, and came to a reluctant stop. A truce that could crumble without warning, as the muscles flexed and quivered uneasily against the elf's legs. Its head was thrown back, staring down the other horse with a wild eye while it panted and grunted noises of alarm. The grip on her own reins bleached her knuckles white beneath the protective gloves she wore, and she braced herself for the sudden flight that she knew would come sooner or later. One false move from that daedric thing in front of them, and her ride was bound to take off at a frantic gallop she would be lucky if she could ever bring under control again.

"Who are you?!" She seethed through clenched teeth, a display of anger marring her as she glared at him.

That horse... It had red eyes. Red, _glowing_ , eyes. Now she knew she wasn't going crazy. There was some serious magic at work here, and it was most certainly linked to him. The longer she gazed upon it, and the rider it carried, the more dread she felt.

The smile that greeted her was so deceptively gentle. The kind that radiated with love from an old friend, or family member. A smile that promised unconditional trust and security...a genuine smile. And yet, it left her with a hollow pit for a stomach, as if the smooth muscle had blinked out of existence, leaving the acidic contents to permeate throughout her thoracic cavity and dissolve everything in slow agony. She wanted to vomit, but she couldn't. The first sign of a cold sweat seeped down the curve of her spine.

"I think you know who I am." That charming curve of his lips never wavered, while his restless, yet obedient steed bobbed its head. "Tell me... What was your goal? Why did you really come here? Give me the details. All of them." He pried softly, as if he had all the time in the world to goad her into sating his curiosity.

She grew still. Painfully rigid, but still in its purest sense, once her eyes twitched down to rest on the imprint of a black hand woven into the banner draped from his saddle. Her rabbit fur cloak became obsolete. The cold eels inside her evolved into slicing, gripping wraiths that froze her veins.

This was impossible. This wasn't happening... She was dreaming, yes. This was a nightmare that she would soon wake from. A twisted torment of her own overactive imagination, and soon, very soon, she would wake in a mess of deerskin and stale hay...or maybe even on that divines-forsaken boat in the middle of the ocean.

"The beginning of a journey..." She whispered with everything she could muster. The lump in her throat hardened into a stone that threatened to choke off her airway. Her explanation lacked the intricate details he wanted her to divulge, but the truth was, she didn't even know them herself. She was flying blind. Fleeing from a life that was once lavish in its opportunities and luxuries, now sundered with betrayal, pain, and death.

"The beginning, Viola?" He blinked at her with a slight cock of his head. Her dark gaze flitted up to him, hearing her name spoken from the lips of a man she had only just met. A man that should know nothing about her. Her worst fears manifested into reality, as she started to piece everything together. This meeting was not, nor was any before it, a coincidence. Then, ever so slowly, he shook his head to disagree with her. She could hear the unspoken words confirm her nightmare: No, this is not the beginning. This is the end.

"You're not the Morag Tong..." She hissed at him. Her heart skipped a beat, and quickly tripped into a racing pattern fueled by adrenaline and raw instinct.

Again, he shook his head. "No...but we are not so different, hm?" A ripple of change coursed through him suddenly. Though she couldn't understand its trigger, she watched its affect as it sank into him. Gripping his senses in a way she could never hope to experience. Something intangible, yet powerful, had snagged his attention. She was a statue as she watched, waiting for his next words to come. Hanging onto his lead much like the frazzled, trigger-happy bay she was seated on waited for one final hasty movement of the black beast in front of it.

"There it is..." He whispered into the wind, the expression on his face transforming into one of concentration at first, before he broke into a broad grin that was somehow as cheerful as it was menacing. A contrast that was sickeningly attractive, and yet more terrifying than anything she had ever seen. In the process, he flashed a pair of elongated, gleaming white canines. "My favorite scent...the most intoxicating aroma... Can you smell it?" When his eyes reopened, they were the living, searing flames she had witnessed twice before.

"Fear."

The clumsy skidding of the panicked animal sifted a flurry of snow into the air as it turned and bolted off down the path they had spent a couple hours climbing. Accelerating faster than it should. Recklessly sprinting to what it blindly hoped would be safety. Behind them, the shadow emerged at the top of the hill to watch their desperate flee. Chest rising and falling in a deep, evenly paced rhythm. Porcelain nose flaring as he leisurely savored the potent essence she left behind. The evidence of something so primal and dizzying in its appeal. He would never get tired of that smell.

The elf's thoughts were as tame as the frozen gust that numbed and blistered her face. Whipping through her like a torrent, with nothing to grasp onto. One day...no, not even one evening had she spent in this unforgiving wasteland, and a new threat was upon her. How did they know? She had been so secretive; her trip unplanned, her movements so quick and quiet. Most of her belongings were left behind to help achieve this feat. Who arranged this, and how could they have possibly moved faster than her?

The roar of the wind competed against the thundering pulse in her ears, destroying any chance she had at hearing her newest assassin race after them. Blotches of dark green, brown, gray, and white blurred past her as the bay charged onward. Muzzle panting thick bursts of steam into the air. The slope wasn't steep enough to be dangerous, but any sudden turns at this speed were likely to end in disaster. The taut reigns were ignored, however. Viola grit her teeth angrily as she squinted into the wind, unable to blame the poor animal for its behavior, and yet they couldn't risk a fall out here. She was miles from anywhere, with limited health potions, and she was likely now branded a wanted criminal in city nearest to them.

Hood bobbing uselessly down her back, she spared a long glance over her shoulder. Behind her, the snowy crest of the ever-lengthening hill was barren. Between the pines reaching skyward, and the boulder caked in ice, only the creeping line of incoming dense clouds could be seen. Her assassin was gone. A quick scan to her right revealed nothing but more columns of trees, bushes, and rocks blanketed in white. To her left, a steeper incline that lead steadily up the mountain, with its peaks submerging into dark mist.

The elf jerked on the rigid reigns with every bit of strength she possessed, feeling the joints of her fingers ache with the strain. A smooth stride transitioned into reluctant, uncomfortable jolts as she managed to wrestle the horse down to a slower pace. Even with its chin pulled to its furry chest, it continued its nervous prance for several yards, finally giving in to a full stop when the muscles of her arms were beginning to cramp, and a dull ache stretched across her shoulders. It's persistent grunting and snorting conveyed its anxious skepticism of her decision to bring them to a halt.

With the deafening wind absent, and only her annoyingly loud pulse to distract her, she guided them into a full circle as she studied the empty surroundings with a keen eye. Near silence, just as before. Not a rustle, nor a chirping bird; the calm before the storm. It was unnerving. A man—no, a creature—that large, shrouded in black...how could it vanish into thin air? And with such a monster of a mount, at that.

One hand dared to ease the reigns enough to reach the neck of the bay, and pat it reassuringly. She wasn't defenseless, but if push came to shove, shooting arrows from a horse this damn skittish and unpredictable wasn't going to be easy. Yet, the seconds blended into minutes, and then hours—or perhaps not. The minutes felt like hours when they were sewn with this kind of tension. It was beginning to make her angry. She didn't like facing the unknown, especially when she was made to wait for its arrival.

"All bark and no bite." She sneered quietly to herself, ignoring the faint shake in her voice while the horse under her began to relax a little. Ears twitching and head bobbing every now and then as it looked around curiously. Her hand continued to stroke it absentmindedly, and then she nudged it into a walk.

No sooner than she did, a loud, reverberating cackle rang like a sinister bell through the trees all around them. The horse startled and whinnied quietly. The elf cursed and instinctively reached for the bow fixed at her back.

"Is that what you want, Viola?" His direction was indiscernible, and still no trace of movement caught her attention.

"What I want is for you to stop cowering in the shadows, so I can sheath an arrow between your eyes." She snapped back furiously, always careful to mask her fear with rage. It was hopeless, though. Even she knew that. Not a single drop of blood had been shed between them yet, but the truth was painfully evident, even if she didn't want to admit it. This was no normal human being, and nothing like the assassins she faced in Morrowind. Every one of them had attempted to strike her down with a quick, clean ambush. They were predictable, and in her honest opinion, clumsy. In the end, they still managed to drive her out of the entire damn country, but in the end, that was for a reason other than to preserve her own well-being.

This one was different. She could feel it in the hollow air that was just as soul-sucking as it was draining of warmth. It wasn't just his physical appearance. The intimidating height, the burning inhuman eyes and sabre-like teeth were one thing. It was his open stalking that gave her pause. He toyed with her. This wasn't a mere job for him. He had drawn her into his own little game, before she was even aware she was a player, and she was beginning to suspect he was in no hurry to bring it to an end. This was someone with unrivaled confidence, and someone who enjoyed killing.

"You made a powerful enemy, didn't you?" His deep voice was pinpointed somewhere behind her this time, curious and prodding, and suddenly so close. The dark gray cloak swished as a lightning-quick hand found purchase of the moonstone bow. The thin string stretched promisingly while a sharp arrow targeted the path that was surprisingly vacant. Hooves crunched and thumped uneasily over the hardened snow and stone below them, as something stirred the animal's heightened senses. A wisp of cold air managed to trickle beneath the heavy fabric and reach her spine, just as it did more than once the night before.

"And yet you left three bodies behind. That's quite impressive." The razor tip swung forward as the voice came from a new direction, aiming above the fluttering brown ears of the horse. Again, there was nothing but empty space.

"Where are you, you son of a horker..." She whispered under her breath, keeping her arms steady and her sharp eyes peeled, while her heart beat faster.

"There will not be a fourth, Viola..." Once again, it came from behind her. This time, she did not turn.

"But I want you to promise to try your hardest." It came closer, brimming with a mirth that did not belong. Perverse, sadistic, bone-chilling and blood-boiling, and creeping right into her ear with a trickle of cold air that she knew this time was not born from the icy mountain. A fleeting memory of the chill that woke her last night flashed through her mind, sparking recognition that set her teeth into an angry clench.

The arrow sprang free in a flash as she twisted around, assaulting a tree trunk with a _thunk_ and brief shudder of the pointed feathers. Still, nothing there! She didn't wait to hear another arrogant cackle. The bow was slung quickly over her back, and her gloved hands erupted with streams of billowing flames like twin pillars of angry dragons. They swept around them in an arch with a sound of rushing wind, while the horse neighed nervously and swiveled with its flank. Her thighs anchored her, persistent in keeping her place on the saddle, for if she were to lose it, she was sure she would never see her mount again.

A shimmer of movement caught her eye, before the very air came to life in an odd dance of light and distorting scenery. The assassin manifested when a lick of flame caught his swishing cloak, and quickly spread along the fabric, bringing him into view. "Got you." She hissed fiercely, and made to draw another arrow—one that would not miss him.

"Oh, you _are_ quick." His overjoyed laugh only served to confuse and enrage her further. This truly was a game to him, but she didn't understand the half of it. A blur of black leather sent him diving to the frozen earth, choking the burning flames before they could reach his flesh with a dousing of snow. His roll leveled him with the bay's uneasy, shifty flank. The arrow tip followed him, ready to lodge into his torso not half a second before he leaped into the air with the fluidity of a large cat, earning the title she gave him, and a single heel struck at the horse's hip.

The force of an avalanche rocked them, scrambling her thoughts. A sickening crunch and shrill whinny filled the air as the animal's legs collapsed beneath it, and it skid to the edge of the path like a mutt swatted by a troll. Back end concave and useless with an obviously crushed joint, pelvis, and femur. The elf was jarred harshly from the saddle, and managed to clear a few feet before crashing onto her side on the hard ground. She looked up, catching the sight of the poor creature struggling to rise to its feet with just its front hooves for support, mouth open and tongue lolled out the side in agony. Then, he was hurdling over it, right towards her face.

She sprang up in time to dodge the toe of his boot, one that likely would have torn her head clean off her shoulders, and bounced backwards. The bow clattered on the cobblestones, and she reached instead for the identical twin daggers she kept sheathed at her hips. She was fast...but he was faster. A splay of claws slashed at her chest, and she jumped again, feeling the pointed tips rip through part of her jostled cloak. There was no time to think. No time to wonder how a man even his size could cripple a full grown horse with one hit. A single mistake in this dance would be a fatal one.

A showering of short mottled fur tickled her face when another clawed hand swiped closer, and tore through it into the leather of her chest. Each step faster than the last. She dodged another beneath his arm, sliding around behind him as a glint of poisoned moonstone emerged to strike into the back of his knee, but a boot swiped her ankle and threw her onto her back.

Another burst of flame shielded her just long enough to roll out of the way, fanning around his chest and face and blinding him with the blistering heat. He hissed loudly, jerking away and giving her time to scramble up and make a dive for the bow she dropped. The blast was short, but hot enough to singe everything below his brow. It hurt him more than it would the average person, but there was a reason he didn't seem too alarmed.

"Magic is not your strong suit, is it, Viola? I wonder just how much power you have to spare." His knowing taunt set her teeth into a clench, and she disappeared with a whirl behind the shelter of a tree with the bow retrieved. He knew more about her than she wished he did. To say it was unnerving would be an understatement. Despite her natural aptitude for magic, she always preferred the rogue arts, and thus never spent much time training in spells. This might very well be the one time in her relatively short life that she regretted disobeying her magic-obsessed parents.

"I would save it, if I were you..." Slow steps crunched noisily through the snow toward the tree. Stalking towards her with a gleam of excitement in his narrowed gaze. Waiting for another arrow to come hurdling from around the column of rough bark. "...for when you run out of health potions." A wicked promise, but she did not answer. Behind him, the broken animal panted and groaned in distress. Struggling in vain to rise from its icy deathbed, and still equipped with with some of her supplies. It was a foreshadowing melody to his ears as a smile found his lips, blistered mildly by the cloud of fire she had assaulted him with.

He swooped around the tree, ready to block her next attack and disarm her of the battle-worn weapon, but there was nothing there. Pleasantly surprised, he spun with sharpened senses. Interesting that he hadn't heard or seen her flee, but he couldn't complain. A long hunt was always favored over a short and easy one. He was far too old and experienced for a quick slaughter to sate him. A challenge was what he craved.

Then, he caught the light imprints of her boots leading away from the tree and disappearing into an obstacle course of rocks and shrouded bushes. He chuckled at her blatant folly...but as she would inevitably learn, it was only one of many she had already made.

The quiet tip-toeing had sprung into a race as she darted down a gradual slope away from the path, careful to watch the ice on the boulders and clear the plants without knocking free the carefully laid snow. She armed herself with a spell to muffle her footsteps, and gulped down a small vial of invisibility potion, to erase herself from his radar. The footprints weren't something she could help right now, but if nothing else, she needed to buy time to assess her situation.

But really, what was there to assess? She was racing down a mountain with half the bags she packed, alone, the target of an assassin the likes of which she had never encountered before, with what could very well be a blizzard looming over the horizon. This wasn't just bad, this was a death sentence. Outrunning him on a horse was probably her best option, and that wasn't going to happen now, and she had a feeling if he landed even one of those swipes of splayed claws, she would be left collecting some of her ribs and entrails off the ground.

Fire. That was the most effective weapon against his kind, wasn't it? He was a vampire, right? But why was he out during the day? For Azura's sake, she didn't know anything for sure. Vampires...yeah, she heard about them. Never did she anticipate running into one. But then, she was still considered a child by some, in her homeland. Skilled and formidable for her age, but with much more to learn and experience still.

The effect of the potion was slipping away, just in time for her to careen down a short ledge. She flattened herself against the rocky wall, wedging between it and an overgrown bush that gave her near complete cover. With a quick shimmer, her form popped into reality. Panting softly, more worked up by adrenaline than overexertion, she remained still and listened. He was clever and quick. She knew there was no way she could escape him that easily, and so she waited for him to reveal himself. Preparing to launch her own sneak attack. The healing potions outweighed the mana potions in her sack, but if she could rest for a bit, she would be giving him much more than a couple blisters next time around.

A haunting cry split the air, distant and echoing from somewhere to her left. The battle-cry of that daedra-possessed horse, no doubt. Now that was one thing that couldn't catch her by surprise. A perfect blunder of his that she could use to her advantage. She pulled a fresh arrow from the quiver and rubbed a bit of poison on the tip. Hoof beats thumped at a steady gallop through the waves of snow, weaving closer as it streaked through the trees, keeping a pace that would quickly tire lesser beasts. Soon, it would show its ugly red eyes, and she readied herself to aim for its chest or neck, depending on the angle it presented. Sweet vengeance would be hers.

The horse materialized several yards away, a mass of shadows flickering in and out of view, and without a rider to guide it. The Dunmer's wrist twitched slightly in surprise, just before she could release the arrow, and her eyes widened as a gentle friction of fabric slipped up behind her.

The arrow shot wildly up into the air, snapping through thin branches and disappearing high into the gray sky above when she was jarred suddenly. Talons sank into her shoulder and ripped her off balance—no, ripped her through the air like a rag doll as her limbs flailed as free as the poisoned arrow that had escaped her into the heavens. She had only the time to gaze in wonder at the frosted snowberries gliding below her before she crashed into a tree and fell to the nest of pine needles below, which were not quite as soft as they looked.

Lungs paralyzed by the impact, she fought for her next breath while the dried needles crunched between her curling fingers. Something hot and wet seeped over her shoulders and chest, pooling under the leather and fur and sticking to her skin. The swaying black cloak framed a pair of boots that traced the drops of crimson over to her prone form. A light splattering of blood that rained over the untouched snow during her short airborne journey. Now, the wound was gushing, with three gashes and one puncture staining her tattered cloak, and revealing a white glint of her nicked collar bone beneath the torn flesh.

Her diaphragm still failing her, she forced herself to her feet with a clumsy stagger. An intense, sharp ache radiated through her chest from the splintered ribs in her side, promising a world of pain once she was finally able to suck in a gulp of air again. Dark eyes, glossed in silent agony, swept over him as he leisurely strolled her way. That glowing gaze, burning with its own fire, was fixated on her calmly, expectantly.

"Hurry up, Viola." He murmured in warning, watching her stumble away from him as he continued his slow pace. One of her hands sparked with a soft, yellow flare of healing light. The other cast a quick spell to bolster her armor against him. Slowly, the flow of blood choked off to a thin trickle as her wounds stitched themselves, and the ache in her side dulled...but it wasn't enough.

Only then did she notice the subtle glimmer of protective magic that was woven into his armor. Revealing itself in the right light, with shades of orange and gold over the black fabric like an oily sheen. It was an enchantment that resisted fire damage. Of course...she should have seen this coming. If only she had taken the time to get her own armor enchanted before she left the city. She had been too hasty to flee the cold, and too foolish in thinking she was safe from her pursuers.

"Come on now... I was told you would be a challenge. Don't disappoint me." She heard him _tsk_ , watched him cock his head to the side with a sigh, and stare at her almost sadly. She wasn't moving fast enough. He could end her with one lunge and cradle her liberated heart in his hands, if he so chose. It was about time she stopped gawking at his abilities and actually tried fighting for her life. Didn't she know he was already going easy on her by coming out to play during the day?

She laughed, this time. A low chuckle that grew into something exasperated and near-maniacal. The brand new boots she purchased slid uneasily in the slow, ankles quivering like a fawn learning how to stand. Her mana was almost depleted now, with how little she was able to build for use. It would take too long for her to restore enough to bathe him in flames again, and with how closely he was treading to her, it was further proof he understood her capabilities—and their limits—quite well. The gap in strength, experience, and advantage between them was monumental. How could she not laugh?

His boots, much more flexible and weathered than hers, followed the patter of blood attentively. Tracing the bright stains in the snow and smearing them into red footprints behind him in such a way that she wondered if this was a ritual of his. The cruel amusement was washing away steadily, replaced by what she believed to be boredom trickling into his face.

"So, this is it." She mused aloud with a ragged breath, seething in bitterness. The portrait of one who could do nothing more but accept their fate. She heard a sigh sift through his nose, and watched him as he drew close enough to reach out and snatch her, if he wanted. He looked down at her with a fiery gaze devoid of pity. Giving her the impression that he expected much more from her than she was able to deliver. It was almost comforting to see. If disappointment was the only weapon she could use against him, then she would wield it spitefully.

"I should have stayed in Morrowind, after all." Her feet planted, knees bending lightly as she turned her shoulder to him instinctively, like a flimsy shield. Waiting for him to make his final move, and appearing to dread it as much as she accepted her fate. "There, I could have at least taken as many of them down with me. Instead, I meet my end here...in this frozen shit-hole..."

Behind him, her bow laid out of reach. Poking up at an angle through a snowbank, with an array of spilled arrows surrounding, and the half-full quiver nearby. It was her preferred weapon, and it could do her little good now. The wounds in her shoulder and side were manageable, and her armor was bolstered, but to what end? They provided little relief, knowing what she was up against. This wasn't a fight, she knew that. This was a slow slaughter.

The boredom and near complete disinterest was ingrained in his features as he paused before her. Eyes flicking from her moving lips, up to her dark gaze, and then to congealing blood that was quickly freezing into her cloak.

"You're so negative, Viola. Look on the bright side..." He chided her, like a parent would a whining child. "They sent _me_ after you. Consider it a testament of your skill, if they needed to resort to such measures. Your parents would be so proud, don't you think...if they were alive." The living flames claimed her vision as he leaned into her, searching her curiously. Like a cat swatting at a dead mouse, trying to prod it back to life. Only this time, she noticed, she did not experience that euphoric or levitating feeling. He wanted an organic reaction from her.

"What don't you know about me?" She growled quietly, black pits staring back at him while a hand clutched her aching side.

For a moment, his eyes strayed to her shoulder again, distracted by the chips of red ice blowing in the wind with the fur. "Plenty. I don't know why you murdered your fiance, to start." He glanced back to her. Another swat by an impatient feline. "Though I suspect you weren't aware of his involvement with the Morag Tong when you slit his throat. Isn't that right?" His voice dropped to a whisper, but she could hear him clearly in his close proximity. The silence and harsh glare was as much of an answer as he needed, and a slow smile crept up his lips, revealing the tips of his fangs.

The small blade evaded his detection when she revealed it with a quick, silent jerk of her wrist. An explosion of surprise and pain gripped him, and he snarled with a sound that was much louder and more menacing than any human could make, when she sheathed it into the side of his knee. In the same movement, she propelled herself past him with a swift roll, and bounced up into a sprint. A flurry of snow and snapping twigs rustled in her wake as she dove madly to collect her bow and quiver, and then into the wilderness and out of sight.

It was her best shot, as far as she could tell. She had waited for his guard to slip, and now all she could hope for was to impede his chase long enough for her to find a place to hide. Outrunning him would not work, and neither would meeting him in hand to hand combat. With her cloak, she could blend into the scenery decently, especially if she turned it inside out and utilized the fur. It was meant to camouflage, after all. The only problem was the blood. She did not know how efficiently he could track her, with what lingered in her armor. If she could stay downwind from him, perhaps the odds would be in her favor, for once.

Somewhere in the distance, a howling laughter drifted through the wind. Revealing his position, and letting her know he hadn't immediately followed her trail. When she reached the path, she found her horse sprawled on its side in the cold, snowy stone. Struggling with labored breaths that she hadn't the time to silence. The poor animal would have to die on its own, for she only lingered long enough to retrieve her leather sack and sling it over her shoulder. If she were stranded anywhere else, she would have left that too, but if she meant to survive even one night on this mountain, she would need everything she had.

She sprung up the driest tree she could see near the path, to disturb as little snow as possible, and from its branches, launched to the rocky cliff that lead her further up the mountain. The ice and snow made it unbelievably dangerous to climb, but it was no more dangerous than the death she face behind her. Footprints would lead him to her no matter where she ran. If she was fortunate, he would follow her path to the road, and think she meant to trace it back towards Windhelm. If he wasn't so hasty and assuming, he would at least need to spend some time to find her footprints again. Retreating further up the mountain was the last place any sane being would go, so it should not be the first place he searched.

This was madness, but she had drawn every short straw until now, and thus madness was all that was left for her. By some miracle, she reached the top of the small cliff, and ran as quietly as she could along its edge. Keeping her pace along dry rock and fallen log whenever possible, to make the chase difficult. Her flight lead her away from Windhelm and into the frosty unknown. The clouds were rolling in thickly now. Shrouding her in a mist that made it easier to blend in, but also finding ways to seep beneath her armor and make her shiver. Curse this land. She truly hated everything about it now, but she would much rather die by a shower of snow and ice than by the claws of the bastard she left behind. The thought of her blood freezing in her veins before he could tap them brought a morbid smile to her face.

Twice she heard the shrill cry of that beast he rode, and twice it was far enough away to give her hope. It seemed he had traveled in the wrong direction, but was searching nonetheless. By the time she allowed herself to take a small rest, the snow was falling in a gentle, slow dance. Collecting on her cloak and hiding her amongst the drifts and stone around her. She found a ledge to crawl under. Nothing that could keep her from the cold, not like a cave could do, but it was enough to provide shelter. Giving her a few feet of dry earth to scrape a shallow burrow into, that was almost as cold and hard as the stone itself, but at least it wasn't wet.

She huddled there, the passage of time escaping her as she waited and listened. The slightest movement or noise sent her muscles tensing and her vision sharpening, but he never appeared. In the back of her mind, she knew. This was not over. Even if she escaped this wintry death trap and made it to warmer lands, it would not be over. If he was a part of the Dark Brotherhood, which she was acquainted with only through learning the history of the Morag Tong, then they would hunt her relentlessly. She very well may have to flee to yet another country, and even then...

She was wasting energy. What she should focus on was trying to survive the night, and stay alert for the hunter that stalked the wilds in search of her. There was a blessing in this snowfall, she had to admit. It would hide any imprints she might have left behind. She could only hope that it didn't continue heavily enough to make it impossible to find her way back to civilization before succumbing to the elements, or starvation.

Hours passed with only the muffled sound of falling snow. It built up a wall around her, slowly encasing her beneath the ledge, but she didn't dare disturb it. It was growing dark enough to blend everything into a indistinguishable gray haze, and the trials of the day had caught up to her. The hunger and exhaustion dealt her a heavy blow, worse than it ever did on the swaying ship that dumped her in Skyrim. Her eyelids felt heavy as ingots, and she struggled to stay awake while she sipped slowly on a healing potion. The effect wasn't immediate, but gradually the wounds would seal up into scarred flesh.

Sleep stole her with little effort before night could settle in, leaving the empty bottle to slip from her hand and fall next to her. Tormenting her with feverish dreams that were chaotic, violent, distressing, and nonsensical. Strange beasts the likes she had never seen rampaged through her mind, dismantling any rejuvenation she could have scraped from her slumber. Such creatures that could only spawn within the planes of oblivion itself. Worst of all being a large, humanoid monster black as night, threatening her with horns and teeth sharper than any blade she had seen.

It wasn't the cold that awoke her. A heavy chill had seeped into her bones, keeping her tethered to her body even in sleep, as she frequently found herself shivering in her wretched dreams. It was the frantic, short puffs of air and faint scraping that slowly roused her. She was groggy and disoriented when her eyes opened. The sliver of sky she could see above the wall of snow in front of her was still thick with clouds, but there was a dull light twinkling through them. Somehow, it stung her, dim as it was. A sharp twinge irritating her eyes every time she tried to focus. As if the light itself was some tangible force she was meant to avoid.

A growl snapped her attention away, leading her to a speckled gray snout that was too close for comfort, snorting loudly at her. It took her a moment to understand where she was, and what was happening, but the wolf announced its presence with a curling lip and bared teeth. A large paw scratched at the stone and snow, trying to dig its way into her small cubby hole. Somewhere beyond, another howled. Beginning the chorus of what sounded like an entire pack, while the one in front of her dug hurriedly, hearing her stir with a shift of leather and earth.

The howls grew louder. Echoing through the trees in a haunting symphony, while she scrambled dazedly for her daggers. Limbs moved like uncoordinated molasses, as if she hadn't slept a wink. Her stomach growled in hollow complaint, reminding her that she had only eaten once yesterday, which could very well contribute to her pathetic state.

It was almost impossible to think. For the moment, all she could do was try to reconnect herself to reality quick enough to defend herself. The snow offering her weak protection was sifting away, flying through the air behind the dirty, wet animal that stunk worse than any mangy mutt she encountered before. She reached her daggers just as it lunged through the opening it carved, jaws snapping at her desperately like a rabid beast that hadn't eaten in days. A part of her could empathize completely, but she wasn't prepared to be on the menu.

Not after what she escaped... A vampire with skills even deadlier than what she had read about in dusty old books, and a fleet of assassins before him? To then be devoured by a wolf would just be embarrassing. A most frustrating and anticlimactic end.

The wolf moved faster than her, sinking into her forearm and jerking its head, forcing a pained wail as she slashed at it with a blade. A tuft of fur and blood showered her, but it was hungry enough to endure the assault. It snarled and snapped at her face, which she shielded with the same arm, and sought to disembowel it as it fell over her.

The struggle was enough to deafen her to the sounds outside. The howls transformed into something terrifying. Yelps, wails, and growls filled the air with the crisp snapping of bones and an overwhelming metallic scent. The change didn't catch her until the utter silence crept in, but she was too busy trying to keep her face intact to think.

Then, the wolf was sucked away from her in one effortless motion. Pulled out of the hole it came from with a loud whine and strangled growl. It disappeared up into the air, much to her horror. A quick fight of loud thrashing and snapping, and then it fell quiet with a thick crunch. Droplets of blood dripped down onto the snow in front of her, pattering softly, before the twisted and mangled carcass dropped to the ground. The head of the wolf was twisted backward, bloodied tongue lolling out of its mouth of broken teeth. Furry limbs were twisted and broken into a mess of jagged points, and its spine was bent at a near-ninety degree angle.

The blades vibrated in the air between her and the opening, her hands shaking violently as she pressed her back into the crevice of stone and dirt. The sun was rising slowly above the horizon, illuminating the outside well enough for her to see the corpses of wolves beyond. At least six in counting, all crushed in the same manner, with one somehow hanging sloppily from a low tree branch, a piece of intestines ripped free and dangling over another sharp, broken branch.

She was too afraid to breathe. Waiting in silence as she listened and looked. The heartbeat pounding in her ears was quickly turning into a throbbing headache, her body protesting this new adrenaline rush. The destruction and raw power was pure enough to make her think of not the vampire she was running from, but instead a troll. In truth, she wasn't sure what she feared more, but his voice called to her before her imagination could run rampant, and with it, her chest tightened painfully.

"I was going to let you sleep more, before we continued." He murmured from somewhere. Unseen, but close. "But, as you can see...we were interrupted." They were calm and reassuring words, speaking the way a mentor would. It was unnerving, how he did such things. Behaving in ways that completely contradicted his true nature, and brutal intent. Like this truly was a game, and at the end of it all, he would merely tap her on her shoulder and yell, 'tag!'

This time, it was the end. She could feel it. Apparent not only in the way she was trapped, but in the lack of will she possessed over her own body. Everything was slow, tired, and drained of life. The single wolf possessed a deadly threat to her she was barely managing to fend off, and then he came and mutilated every last one of them in a matter of seconds. She had nothing left to use against him.

The heartbeat thumped louder, sending splinters of sharp pain through her skull. Her eyes blurred in a veil of tears as she clenched her jaw and heaved a loud breath full of coarse emotions, hissing through her teeth and panting into the air. The realization was harrowing, knowing now that she never did stand a chance. It was all a farce. Another part of his twisted little game she was fated to endure. He knew where she went all along.

"Violaaa..." He sang her name as his black boots shimmered into existence a few feet from the opening of her tiny makeshift cave. "Are you going to come out, or do I have to—"

The small form darted from the hole as swift as the rabbits that lined her coat once did. Quick and fierce enough that it made him pause as she roared in rage, coming for him with her twin blades and a glint in her bloodshot eyes that promised nothing short of murder.

He twirled away from her, dancing with the ease any trained rogue was known for, except better. He was always just out of reach. Always just a little too fast, and a little too clever. He was what a rogue would be if they had been granted centuries or more to perfect their arts.

His glowing eyes followed her daggers and her feet carefully, but not out of concern. A grin pulled at his lips, once more amused by her antics. Her movements, skill, and untamed viciousness were studied, rather than countered with attacks of his own. She was using every last drop of adrenaline she could squeeze to attack him, and he relished it.

This was a transformation he enjoyed. The true character of a mortal that could only be revealed in their darkest and most desperate hour. Most of them ran. Many cried, especially the women. Every last one of them reeked with fear, sooner or later. Sometimes a mere flash of teeth was all it took, other times it wasn't until he ripped a limb from its socket so quickly they were still trying to flail the weapon that was no longer there. The fear always found them, followed by despair, and then the pitiful bargaining.

But she... She was a little different. The fear was present like a heavy perfume, just as it was the night before. It did nothing to soften the bloodlust in the gaze that followed his every move. She came for him, again and again, with a rage that defied the dying body that housed it. She owned the feared, letting it fuel her resolve, rather than break her down. It was refreshing.

"You're tiring yourself out, Viola. You should be running. Use those reflexes to escape me again." He chuckled with another dodge, a flash of blade whizzing past his ear with a hum. "Or at least fire an arrow at me, that's your specialty. You know what I can do now..."

"I'm no fool!" She shouted, slashing for his throat. He caught her wrist and backhanded her gently, to avoid breaking her neck. It was enough for a spray of blood to shower the snow. She pulled her own teeth from her tongue with small effort, and without missing a beat, turned and blasted him in the face with a stream of fire. He reacted in time to swivel away from the heat, but it singed his skin enough to bubble and peel, just like before.

"I know I am not leaving this mountain!" She lunged, a curving swipe aiming to split open his belly through his leather. If he stood still, he imagined she could pull it off with the force she was using, but he was not interested enough to find out. He snatched her wrist again, and then the other, being sure to twist her palms downward and away from him, so she could not set him alight. "But by the eight divines, I will _take you with me!_ " She growled with a promise, bloodied teeth flashing in a vulgar, feral display that brought a startled laugh out of him.

At the twitch of her hip, he read her intentions before she could lift her knee off the ground in a kick, and twisted her left arm in a quick flick of his wrist. The snapping of her elbow brought a howl with it, and she buckled slightly in his grip.

"Is that so!" He laughed heartily, like they were a couple of adventurers telling stories over a crackling fire. Seeding her hatred for him even further. "If you can't hide from me Viola, you can't expect to kill me. It never occurred to you that I can see your body heat, did it? You blaze through the night like a candle through a cave." He laughed louder, back slumping and head falling as if this was too much for him to bear, never expecting the face cringing in agony before him to whip forward and slam into his forehead with all its might.

His head flew back, knocking the obnoxious sound he was making into brief silence. It was a small victory, but one she would take. Every morsel would be clung to, like a high that prolonged the suffering she knew would inevitably come for her, and snuff her into darkness.

His claws swiped for her before she even knew he released her wrists. The sharp points shredded the cloth, fur and leather as if it had never been there, and left gaping wounds through her chest and abdomen as long as her forearm, and wider than the breadth of her fingers. The pain reached her through the adrenaline, paralyzing her momentarily and wiping the rage from her face into shock. It was a fatal wound, especially in her compromised state, and their desolate location.

She stumbled backwards, though refused to fall to the snow, staring at him vacantly at first, and then she was clouded by the fire that ignited her nerves. The maddening grin of his changed in nature somehow as he watched her. Distracted now by the wounds. The glistening gold of his eyes admired the blood that poured forth, coating everything in its vibrant crimson.

"You...want this...?" The voice that reached him was quiet now, strangled in pain. He took a step after her, the aroma overwhelming the rest of his senses almost hypnotically. "You want...my blood..." He looked up just in time for a cheek full of bloody saliva to splat over his face. Blinding him and dripping down his cheeks.

A deranged laugh followed, and he heard her shuffling clumsily as she tried to remain on her feet. "You can't...have it... You...piece of _shit_..."

The slime was wiped onto his sleeve, and when he saw her next, she had already used one of her daggers to slice into her wrists. Blood dribbling thickly into the blanket of white, forming another trail between them as she continued to stagger away. The blade came to her neck then, pressing into her throat as she locked eyes with him.

"I'll spill it...spill it all...before I let you..." A sick smile mocked him. Sadistic enough to rival his own. He came for her in a blur faster than she had witnessed yet, but she already began to slash her silver throat into a yawning crevice. A hint of steam wafting into the air around her.

When he caught her, the blade flailed weakly for him, and he batted it away to disappear into the snow with a soft _thump_. She collapsed in his arms, an angry and determined groan rumbling from her as she felt only a trickle of blood seep down her neck, rather than the gush she wanted. A weakness was spreading through her quickly, regardless of her failure. An act of pure spite that was left unfinished, yet it seemed to be enough to grant her the end she desired. An end by her own hands, not his.

Everything was so cold now, but it no longer hurt. Not like it did before. A sense of peace seeped through her, the first she felt in a long, long time. The mocking smile remained plastered on her face as she stared at the grizzly cat crouched over her, or rather through him. Feeling herself being pulled away into an abyss where she felt comfortably weightless.

It struck her curiously, the way he was looking at her now. Nothing he could do or say would alarm her anymore, but it did catch her attention as her vision began to lose focus. His eyes were trained on her so...intently, had to be the word. Like he was thinking about something. There was nothing left to think about. This game was over. Yet it was as if he didn't accept it.

Slowly, his eyes narrowed and left her fading gaze. They considered the exposed throat below him, and that look of thoughtful wonder he was expressing returned to that sadistic mischief she was familiar with. She expected to see his teeth. To watch him lean into her and claim whatever life-force she had left to spare. He didn't. Instead, she felt herself rising from the snow and into arms that cradled her, and heard distantly the snow crunching beneath his boots as he carried her away.

Blissful darkness claimed her long before she could understand his intent.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** This isn't meant to be the end. In fact, these characters both have longer lives ahead of them, but I do not know when or if I will continue. So until further notice, it will be marked as finished. Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you for reading._


	3. Chapter 3

_**A/N:** This chapter is very short, but...I suppose they don't all have to be tiny novels, hm?_

* * *

" _Viola..."_

 _It was warm here. Wherever here was. She could not feel her own body anymore, if it even still existed. Weightless, but not in emptiness. She felt...free._

" _Viola..."_

 _The voice was soft and distant. Feminine and familiar. She should know who this voice belonged to, but she could not place it. Her mind was a blissful fog as she drifted through nothingness._

 _Slowly, her eyes opened. Rather, matter and light seemed to coalesce around her, for she had no eyes. The urge to blink was erased, and there was no need to breathe. She could not find her lungs._

 _The light was pale, blending with all sorts of colors, but only distinguishable if she concentrated on them. There was no earth, and no sky. Only this state of being she could not define, yet she found she could not bring herself to care._

" _Viola...!"_

 _The colors dimmed around her. Washing into shades of winter, clouds and snow. Triggered by the change in tone, as this being called to her. Or was it the other way around? The voice was still distant, but urgent now. She could not find its source._

 _The recognition gripped her suddenly, shaming her as she realized it was her own mother echoing through the mist. Beckoning her forth, as though they were not safe here._

 _The cold seeped into her, shaping the limbs that were not present a moment ago. Animating them, but with a price. They were heavier than they should be. Her arm reached through the mist, disappearing in front of her as if she were a part of it herself. Melding into the silver that matched her skin._

 _Something burned her throat, trickling down inside her like a hot coal leaving a trail of embers. It wasn't painful, yet she thought it should be. It began to pulse life into her frozen limbs as she drifted through the ever-changing labyrinth of shifting light and shadow._

 _Then it followed, prickling every last nerve she possessed to stir in the body melting into existence. Aching, throbbing discomfort chased the heat that spread through her. Something washed over her from behind. A wave of ice, as if she had fallen into the northern sea._

" _Viola..."_

 _The voice was so quiet now she could barely hear it, and a pang of mourning she did not anticipate squeezed the heart she wished would return to oblivion. It beat slowly, weakly. Forced to awaken against its will, and continue to spread the hot liquid that filtered through her._

 _The bath of ice began to take shape and travel. Snaking along her arm and following its reach into the unknown. She watched it collect into a long shadow. Utterly devoid of light, yet moving and flickering with a life of its own. It was like watching darkness itself manifest as a black hand emerge over her own, and laced with her fingers._

 _Dread engulfed her, and she could not withdraw her gaze from the glinting gold band that was solid, and very real. Adorning one of the black fingers that was fabricated from a substance she could not being to understand. Her fiance's ring._

 _Something gargled from her throat. A noise that was meant to be a word, but speaking felt impossible. Her tongue was too heavy, her jaw immovable stone. She wanted to scream, to thrash away, but nothing obeyed her will._

 _She swallowed reflexively as something tickled her throat, seemingly the only thing that could move, yet it did so without her control. The hot coal that seeded her life returned. Circulating through her like a rushing torrent now._

 _Darkness rushed forth, spreading from the shadows of the mist and devouring the shifting lights into night. The clutching hand disappeared, along with the golden ring. The realm she had been floating through ceased to exist, but it did not take her body with it._

Sensations returned in full force. Gravity met her, as well as the cruel gifts of cold air, and a pain so widespread she could not pinpoint one source from another. Everything felt broken and torn. She was too exhausted to move, and too wary of the intensity that awaited her should she try to use any of the muscles in her tattered form.

A howling wind harassed the inhospitable landscape she recalled enduring, before she slipped away into...unconsciousness, death? She didn't understand what happened to her, only that she did not want to return to such a place again. But where was she now? Was she truly alive? That couldn't be possible.

The wind sounded so far away, confusing her. As cold as she was, she ought to be amidst the pelting of ice and snow that surely coursed with it. Yet the air around her was still, and she could sense no snow beneath her.

The being holding her captive escaped her until it moved again, alerting her to the arm pressing the ripped leathers on her chest, and the hand holding her jaw, tilting her head back. Another hand nudged something against her mouth. Something smooth and cool like glass, and it tipped over her lip. Leaking its contents over her tongue and down her throat. The burning was reminiscent of what she felt in the abyss, but it was soothing now.

She jerked lightly, nerves responding restlessly to the changes rippling through her. Mortal wounds mended themselves with each life-giving dribble into her mouth. The outline of a broad chest

revealed against her back as she moved. She was seated on barren earth, reclining into the arms holding her, with knees bent on either side of her. She could smell leather, fur, and blood. So much blood...

She did not need to be told to swallow. Every sip made her crave more, shedding light on the insatiable thirst even as it quenched it. A hand lifted weakly to find the container trickling its contents, but it was caught by the hand that had been holding her jaw still. Steely fingers encircled her wrist, and over the tight, damp bandage choking off the wound her dagger inflicted.

Resignation claimed her, as it took every ounce of strength she possessed to merely lift her hand, and she fell limp with a quiet moan. Soon, the container pulled away and met the ground with a hollow sound. The throbbing and aching was as real as ever, illuminating the injuries she suffered in much sharper detail than before, though it was becoming tolerable. So long as she remained still, she could suffer its punishment.

Consciousness grew more difficult to grasp as the time passed. She was sinking in and out of a dreamless sleep while her body continued to heal with the support of the potion she'd been given. When she was abandoned and left to lay on the floor, she could not say. All she knew was that at some point, the being vanished, leaving something soft to drape over her. It didn't trap heat the way her cloak did, but it made it easier to sleep. Every once in a while, a shiver would wrack her, startling her awake in a most painful fashion as it tensed muscles in need of more healing, but it could have been far worse.

When her lids finally parted, she gaze wearily into the dimly glowing haze of silver and white, several yards from her. The only thing she could see, as the rest of her periphery was lost within a sea of black. Her mind was slow to piece the puzzle together, but eventually she realized that she was in a cave. Whether it was dawn or dusk, she could not tell, but it was most certainly twilight.

There was no fire to comfort her, which she regretted sorely. If she ever escaped this eternal winter, she feared it would take ages to warm up again. Nothing but the distant wind made a noise. She was alone, with something dark covering her that easily passed for a blanket, though it smelled foreign. Still too exhausted to move, she simply laid in wait. Listening to the forsaken melody, the only thing this land could offer.

The sink of sleep pulled her so deftly, it wasn't until the snort of an animal startled her eyes open that she realized she was retreating from reality again. Something within the shadows of the cave caught her eye. It was standing near the wall, close to the entrance. A sliver of red burned through the darkness as the eye opened. A single, glowing orb that hovered in space high above the ground, and then flickered away as the nightmarish horse it belonged to turned its head. The beast had been there all along. Resting peacefully near her, until it was alerted by something in the snow storm beyond.

The understanding crushed her. Squeezing her chest as her shallow breaths quickened. He kept her alive. He was here. He'd been the one taking care of her. It all seemed so obvious, but none of those thoughts had the chance to dawn until now. She had been pulled from the brink of death hours ago. Thinking coherently was just as taxing as physically moving.

And now, she couldn't _stop_ thinking. Memories collided in her fragmented mind as the tried to assess her situation. Mixing and disrupting her feverish thought processes that aimed to plot her next move and free her from this mess. The fatigue and damage done to her was debilitating enough that she wasn't aware just how little sense she was making. The idea of creeping out into the storm and disappearing before he could return seemed feasible, and honestly the only way she could escape.

All she needed to do was...

The delerious thoughts paused as she heard the crunch of footsteps treading closer to the entrance. Born from the sheet of white that streaked almost horizontally past in a volley of endless, icy arrows, he drifted to the mouth of the cave like a ghost. Shrouded from head to toe in a coating of snow that didn't appear to faze him. His cloak was gone, she noticed, and suddenly she knew where her blanket came from. The horse nickered, greeting its master.

"No...no..." She whispered in disbelief. All of this defied logic. She should not be alive, least of all by his hands. Someone as ruthless as him? He wasn't even human. That could only mean one thing: he wasn't done toying with her yet.

"No...no, no, no..." Teeth grit in agony as she willed herself to roll to her stomach. The gashes had not finished healing, and every shift against the rough earth tore the mending tissue further apart beneath the shredded leather. Blood began to ooze, trailing in her wake like the remnants of a slug. Close to the wall, she spied the vague shadows of her bow and daggers. Far enough away that she would have to drag herself, inch by wretched inch, to reach them. She didn't care.

The footsteps were slow, but she could hear them approaching. Treading deeper into the cave toward her. Clumps of snow splat to the ground as he wiped himself clean. Once again, her hope to escape him alive was ripped from her mercilessly, but she could still kill herself. She could do it. Failing once did not mean she had to fail again. She would tear through her own throat without hesitation. Just a few more feet...

Her broken arm had been set, and was beginning to heal with the rest of her, but it was shaky and unhelpful in propelling her forward. She stretched, fingertips straining in the air and brushing the frozen metal of her dagger as her heart pounded with weakened, uneven beats.

The blade shot away from her, replaced by the boot that kicked it across the cave floor. So close he grazed her fingernail, and yet miles away.

"No...no...no..." It was the only word she murmured, though it was chanted in desperation now. A collage of emotions raging through her from terror, to rage, and anguish. Tears poured soundlessly down her cheeks as her face twisted into something hideous.

There were hands on her, gripping and pulling while she struggled in vain, until she was thumped onto her back and caged by his arms and legs as he knelt over her. The intent to lunge, to beat him senseless, gouge his eyes and rip into him with her nails could never translate through the harmless swatting that brushed and tapped his face and chest. He merely watched her in return. Hiding anything he thought or felt expertly, while she unraveled into an undignified mess.

The mask of pain and fury she wore was so pure in its intensity that it took every bit of control he could muster not to continue breaking her. It contested his natural instincts. Things that could only be sated through ritualistic torment. He wanted to hurt her in the most creative ways. To hear her scream and curse him. To give her more illusions of escape, only to catch her again. But he couldn't. This was one of the very few instances in his time as an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood where his purpose was to keep a mortal alive, rather than rip them piece by piece into bloody ruin.

This had not been part of the plan. Not even close. In a strange and abrupt twist of fate, he was now keeping a victim alive while they tried to end themselves. Oh, what beautiful irony! For once in very long time, his game had changed, and it was exciting. He would have to be careful with her. Mortals were such fragile things, and it was going to require a discipline that he was quite rusty with, but it was possible.

"No..." She choked on a sob, eyes sealing shut in hopeless defeat as her arms shook, a hand clutching vengefully into the wet hair hanging around his face just to keep it from collapsing to the ground in exhaustion.

"Shhh..." He hushed her quietly, a hand slipping over hers to untangle her fingers from the blonde locks without hurting them. They came apart easily, and he pushed her hand down next to her. The unnatural fire ignited in his eyes, burning through the darkness to exam her. Waiting for her to look at him again, and inevitably fall victim to their supernatural influence.

Except her eyes didn't open. They swelled as tears continued streaking from the squeezing corners, dripping down to disappear into her hair. Her pale lips twitched wordlessly. Unable to speak as she shook her head back and forth frantically. It was too much. She needed more potions, or to be treated by a mage specializing in healing magic. She needed food, and water, and rest, and warmth. The danger of bleeding out had passed, but she was anemic, and still very much susceptible to the claws of death, if he was not gentle.

"Viola." She heard him call her name soothingly, without a trace of the malice she anticipated. Something cool brushed her cheek, stroking her and cupping her to hold her head still. "Look at me."

Why? Why would she do anything he asked? He deserved nothing but a pit of flame to turn him into ash. But she looked at him. She peaked just enough to see the luminous eyes hovering above her, for reasons she could not fathom. The fingers glided through her hair as she gazed up in captivated wonder. Lulling her into a skillful deception of safety and peace. It broke her mind in ways his torturous acts alone never could achieve, if only because it contradicted everything he had done, and everything he represented.

She knew this was wrong. It was a trick, another spell she was succumbing to, but there was no means for her to break its hold. The dripping hair tickled her face when he leaned into her. Brushing her pointed ear with lips like ice melting against her skin. "Sleep."

"No..." She repeated again, but with less insistence. Softer now as she began to relax, and feel the tug of drowsiness overcome the adrenaline that urged her to fight him.

"Yes." He whispered, confusing her as his hands continued to caress with a gentleness he should not have been capable of wielding.

It worked as it always did. No mortal could expect to withstand the power of a vampire. Certainly not one with his age and skill, for she was dealing with forces she could not yet begin to comprehend. Whatever she read about his kind in her scholarly books back home didn't contain half of the information there was to learn about him. The elf grew still as sleep stole her away. Granting her the peaceful restoration she would need, if she wanted to wait out the storm and survive the journey back to civilization. Though now it was the last thing in the world she wanted.


End file.
